


Coffee and TV

by extree



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:07:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1565717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extree/pseuds/extree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle likes her coffee super sweet. Rumplestiltskin pretends to mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee and TV

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely inspired by Blur's Coffee and TV.

Belle was curled up on the sofa in her night gown, and Rumplestiltskin was in the kitchen shoveling sugar in her coffee until the thought of tasting it made his skin crawl, which meant that it would be just right for her. From where he was standing, he could just see her brown nest of sleep-tousled hair over the back rest of the sofa, and he smiled. Every morning he tried to get up as quietly as possible so as not to wake her, but no matter how stealthily he moved about the room, avoiding last night’s hastily discarded clothes and the creakiest floorboards, it only took her about ten minutes to notice his absence from their bed and join him downstairs, showing up in the kitchen, yawning and stretching and draping her warm body over his back as he prepared breakfast.

Belle didn’t do much talking in the morning, but her presence made all the difference in the world. Looking over her shoulder, Rumplestiltskin could see that she was watching a rather colorful cartoon meant for very small children with the sound muted, so he supposed she wasn’t really watching at all. Her still sleepy brain was being gently stirred to a more wakeful state by soft shapes and pleasing colors. Soon her bright blue eyes would be that little bit wider, and she would start to answer his questions with words, not just nods and sleepy smiles.

Rumplestiltskin should have known his Belle would have loved television. People in this world often thought that one was either a book person, or a TV person, but that distinction never made a lot of sense to him. Because Belle loved books, yes, but what she really loved were stories. And what else is television if not stories in motion? At first, she had spent countless hours watching whatever happened to be on at the moment and then recounted entire plots with as much detail as she could possibly remember (and that was usually an impressive amount) as they lay in bed, lulling him to sleep with her soft night time voice. But after the novelty had worn off and she had started to develop a sense of what was worth watching and what wasn’t, she still often liked to have the television quietly on in the background. Sometimes as she read a book, even. And Rumplestiltskin didn’t mind. Because it was comforting. It meant she was around.

“Your coffee, sweetness.”

“Thank you.”

He sat next to her, thigh to thigh, and wrapped an arm around her bare shoulders. She melted into him a little bit and he pressed a kiss to her head, stray strands of hair tickling his face. She’d brought the warmth of their bed down with her, and he had half a mind to find a blanket and drape it over them to preserve it. But then he would have to get up, and in truth, it’d have to be something like a smoke alarm going off to give him even the slightest urge to budge from their spot.

“What’s that you’re watching?”

“Not sure. D’you want to watch the news?” she murmured, tilting her head up and to the side so he could see her sleepy eyes blink at him.

“No, love. This is fine. Whatever it is.”

He felt her laugh without sound for a brief moment, her shoulders shaking in his embrace. They watched the flashing screen for a little while, and each time she set the cup of coffee (well, liquid sugar, really) to her lips, Rumplestiltskin tried not to shiver. To distract himself, he gulped down his own coffee – milk, no sugar – and focused on the taste instead. He could still conjure up the sight of her as she tried her first sip of black coffee in this new land. She’d sputtered and scrunched up her face, her tongue sticking out as if that would get rid of the bitterness somehow, and Rumplestiltskin had laughed so hard the people in the diner fell completely silent and stared. He didn’t mind at the time. He was too busy trying to make up for his cruelty by plying a pouting Belle with sugar and cream to give a single damn about the looks he was getting. She had been hooked on the stuff ever since. And now, every once in a while, he indulged her by bringing home a new flavored syrup for her to try. Her lips tasted extra sweet on those days.

“That blue thing looks rather upset.”

“I think the fuzzy blue square fellow lost his bouncy ball, and he’s just accused the round thing that looks a little bit like a cat of stealing it.”

“Is it true?”

“I don’t think so. The round cat thing’s been asleep all day.”

“He ought to sue for slander.”

“I think it’s a she.”

“She ought to sue for slander.”

“Look! There’s the ball, under the chair! It must have rolled under there!”

“Well, I never! Well spotted, Belle! Clever girl!”

She give him a playful shove of the elbow in his side for his mocking tone, and he responded by pulling her closer to him with a low chuckle. Her head fell on his shoulder for a moment. In a few minutes, when the coffee and the sugar had done their work, she would bounce away to go shower and get dressed, and then she would walk him to his shop, kiss him goodbye in the doorway and make her way to the library. But for now, she was here. With him. And there was not a single pained bone in his body. Every cell in his system was at peace.

He could just as easily sink away in terrible memories. Goodness knows he had enough of them – and so did she, for that matter. But here, in this house with her, they seemed a million miles away. He put his empty cup on the coffee table and shifted to lie on his back, her thighs a warm pillow for his head. No regret, no hurt. Only coffee, TV, and his head in her lap. She smiled down at him and did the thing he’d hoped she would do; she slid her fingers in his hair. Her nails scratched softly at his scalp for a little while, but then it was just the gentle, soothing caress of her fingertips combing through. His eyes fluttered shut.

“Don’t fall asleep,” she said, poking his nose. He snapped his teeth at her with a theatrical snarl, and she drew away, giggling. “Feeling very Dark One today, are we, Rumple?”

“Perhaps later,” he replied, voice low and full of meaning, his little smile twisting into a smirk.

“Promises, promises,” sang Belle. She was beaming right back down at him and gave him a little wink.

“How are you already this flirty this early in the morning?”

“Are you complaining?”

“No. Never. It’s magnificent. You’re magnificent.”

She leaned down and placed a little sideways kiss on his lips.

“Says the immortal sorcerer,” she murmured.

“Pawn shop keeper.”

“Says the immortal pawn shop keeper.”

She loved every little bit of him, and he felt it all of the time.

…

He was cleaning the dishes, she was standing by the coffee machine looking suspiciously guilty. He had looked over his shoulders a few times already, but she just stood there, watching him clean up, biting down on a mischievous little smirk. Something was coming. He just knew it.

“Rumple?”

“Out with it,” he sighed, taking a dish towel to their dinner plates. He heard her heels clicking on the floor, then felt her hand slide up his back until her fingers reached his neck and began to curl in his hair. It felt amazing. It always did.

“I know it’s late, but neither of us has to get up early tomorrow and I think we should have one more cup of coffee.”

Rumplestiltskin slowly turned around with a disapproving look on his face, brows knitted together. Her hand was on his shoulder now, and she was trying her hardest to get her way by giving him her sweetest look; eyes wide and disarming, but her smile that of an angel with a terrifying secret.

“We?”

“I won’t have any if you won’t.”

“Belle, you know fully well I don’t have it in me to deny you. You’re an absolute tyrant,” he muttered. Belle’s grin was victorious.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’ve got a soft spot for me,” she said, turning around to fix them their ill-timed coffee.

“I think you’ll find,” he started, closing the distance between them to place his hands on her hips, lean in and nudge the shell of her ear with his nose, “it most definitely is.”

“Nonsense,” she murmured, and she took Rumplestiltskin’s hands in her own, drew his arms around her waist and his body close to hers, resting her head against his shoulder. “You let your guard down.”

“You tunneled under the walls and bypassed my defenses, dear. How could I have prevented that?” he scoffed.

“Archie’s backyard fence goes down into the ground fairly deep so that Pongo can’t dig under it and escape.”

“Your point?”

“Archie could have prevented that,” she teased, laughter hiding just underneath her voice. He tightened his hold on her waist and growled low in her ear, making her squirm and push back against him with a delicious giggle.

“Watch your tongue, pup,” he growled, but the empty, teasing threat only made her giggle even more. She twisted and squirmed until she could turn in his hold, then threw her arms around his neck. Her eyes were full of laughter, her grin the most joyful thing to behold.

“Scary,” she murmured in a low, mocking tone, reaching up to capture his lips with her own. Rumplestiltskin smiled into the kiss, but she refused to let him break it and pull away.

“Love,” he managed in between kisses, “if you would tear yourself away for just,” another kiss, “one moment,” her teeth nibbled at his bottom lip and he almost squealed, “we could get your late night coffee adventure underway.”

“Fine,” she said, drawing back with a sigh, quietly adding “It’s not that late.”

“Fine? You wanted this! You were all pouts and smirks and fluttering lashes until I bent to your will!”

“Which took you all of half a second,” she teased, poking him in the chest. “And I can want two things at once, Rumple.”

“Yes, well, that doesn’t mean you can have them. Fix your coffee, dear. The sooner we get this over with, the less of my precious sleep you steal.”

Rumplestiltskin had poured his own (milk, no sugar) and headed towards the sofa where they sat that same morning, but not before sliding her favorite syrup – hazelnut – towards her over the counter and kissing her shoulder as he passed.

“Who said you were getting any sleep tonight?” she murmured under her breath once he was somewhat out of earshot, hiding her little smirk behind her cup.

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“Oh, nothing, Rumple.”

In this world, Rumplestiltskin wasn’t quite as sleepless as he was back in the Dark Castle. Here there was far less magic whirling around in his head, setting every synapse in his brain alight with endless possibilities, making him want to spin and spin and spin until the squeaking of the wheel drowned out the busy buzz of pure magical force coursing through his veins. Here, for 28 years, he had been tired and sore at the end of each day, and though sleep still did not come easy, it did win out a lot more often in the end. Once he was up, however, he was up. His mind would not still in the morning and allow him to drift back asleep, so his curtains were heavy and thick, impossible for the sun to impose itself. (He stopped short of nailing them down, though. He wasn’t sure if he could pull off that particular move again, with this slightly more fragile body.) It got easier once it wasn’t his bed anymore. Once it was theirs. Sleep came sooner with her there; cuddled up close with her head under his chin and breathing slow, or limbs splayed and naked skin glistening with sweat, grinning at him in pure bliss, waiting for their hearts to stop racing.

She came and sat next to him, clicking on the TV, the volume low, but not muted. Some nature documentary or other. Belle loved those.

“You could have said no, you know,” she said.

“Yes, well, you haven’t been at the receiving end of your pleading looks, now, have you?”

“What I mean is I know I tease you to get my way, but you know I’m not serious, right? I don’t want you doing things you really don’t want to do.”

“I know, love. Don’t you worry about me. I trust you to use your power over me for good. Well, goodish things, at least. I indulge you for purely selfish reasons, anyway.”

“Oh?” asked Belle, her eyebrows raised in a questioning look.

“Why would I want to sleep while you’re still up and about, being lovely and clever and beautiful?”

“That’s hilarious,” she said. “Why do you think I drag myself out of bed so early and sit here like a zombie every morning?”

“Hmm. Because I’m up and about, being lovely and clever and beautiful?”

“Exactly,” Belle laughed, pushing herself up from her slumped position on the sofa, placing her hands on his shoulders and swinging a leg over him to finally end up straddling his lap. He grinned, ran his fingers up her bare arms, barely touching the skin and leaving goose bump trails.

“So, essentially, what we’ve done here, my love, is we’ve managed to synchronize our terrible sleeping patterns somewhat without any planning whatsoever.”

“That’s true love for you,” she murmured, leaning in for a kiss. But Rumplestiltskin grinned and turned his head, evading her lips and making her frown at him.

“Ah, but no-one told me true love also involved having your view of the television blocked.”

“Like you care!” she gasped.

“I might do! Those gazelles are really quite interesting creatures.”

Rumplestiltskin stretched his neck to look over her shoulder, but she caught on quick and leaned to the side to block him again, giggling. They made a little game of it until he remembered that he really didn’t have to play fair – he was the Dark One after all – so he dug his fingers in her sides, tickled and poked until tears were streaming down her face and she was screaming with laughter, squirming on his lap and trying to bat away his hands.

“Stop!” she laughed, and Rumplestiltskin willingly let her capture his roving hands in hers. There were tears still in her bright eyes, and the intensity of her grin made his heart swell with joy and pride to know that he was responsible for that. That look was his doing. She was happy here, with him. It was a dizzying thought, one that sent his heart beating a little faster. Faster still when she gave his hands a little squeeze, then placed them on her hips. With a soft sigh, she cupped his face in her soft hands and stared him down.

“Do you want to watch the gazelles, Rumple?” she asked, barely containing her laughter. He narrowed his eyes, smirked darkly and held her gaze.

“Fuck the gazelles.” His voice was low, gruff, almost dangerous.

“Not quite what I had in mi-”

He had pulled her down into a kiss and had swallowed up the rest of the sentence. She giggled against his lips, very briefly, before his fingers started kneading the flesh at her hips and the giggles turned into a moan, the moan turning into reverent silence as they kissed and kissed and kissed again – slowly, languidly, unhurried and soft, but promising all the same.

Because these things always started hours before. A lingering look, a teasing joke, a knowing touch would set something in motion. Something that flowed slow throughout their day. A ripple in the middle of the sea, welling up deceptively slow; an entire ocean rising up just a little bit, higher and higher, towering near land to come crashing over the rocks. And so they sat kissing in the shadow of a looming wave.

They broke apart. She breathed in, out, deep, her chest slowly heaving, leaned back in, but her lips were met with a toothy grin and he laughed.

“Something funny?” she breathed, sliding her fingers up his neck, thumbs brushing against his jaw.

“I can taste how preposterously sweet you made that coffee of yours,” he murmured low, tongue swiping past his lips almost demonstratively. Belle’s eyes were glued to his lips, he noticed. An unbearably arousing little detail.

“Complaining?”

“Never.”

“Thought not.”

Hands gripping his shoulders, Belle pushed her Rumple down on his back and fell down with him, her mouth on his again without missing a beat. Her tongue slid syrupy sweet against his lips, then the roof of his mouth, and he couldn’t hold back a low moan of approval. Her hair fell in his eyes, but he said nothing of it. Instead he reached up, gathered the softness in his hands and gently swept it over her shoulder. He knew exactly how to touch the newly exposed skin, there, and with a single fingertip tracing the curves of her neck, it was her turn to mewl into the kiss. But that mewl soon turned into stunned silence when the narrator on TV (still quietly on in the background) spoke words that for some reason actually registered in her mind and drew her out of her trance, and the kiss.

_‘The lioness leaps and sinks her claws into the neck of the weary animal. With her maw, she encloses the zebra’s muzzle and begins to asphyxiate her prey; a preferred tactic that ensures-’_

_Click._ Rumplestiltskin had quickly reached for the remote control and switched the damned thing off before the narrator could finish his description. There was a moment of tense silence before laughter spilled forth as if from a burst balloon and filled the room. Belle, who had been holding herself up and hovering over him before, now fell on top of him with all her weight, and he wrapped his arms around her to gather her closer. The heat of her breath against his neck as she laughed made him grow harder underneath her hip, their bodies pressed flush together as they were.

“Lion,” he whispered in her ear. She scraped her teeth against the skin of his neck in response.

“Let’s go to bed, Rumple.”

In their room, in their bed, the wave rushed over them and broke on the rocks with him unbearably deep inside of her, her arms wrapped tight around his neck and his voice murmuring encouragements in her ear until her body shook underneath his, small urgent sounds escaping despite her teeth’s hold on her lower lip.

They lay in the evening silence for a while, afterwards. Just breathing and touching. Then they started to pierce it with quiet conversation and soft laughter, cotton sheets covering their naked bodies. With her arm over his chest, her head on his shoulder and his fingers in her hair, Rumplestiltskin felt a certain set of words begin to burn in his mind, and without thinking too much about the consequences, he let them tumble down into his mouth and out into the room before they burned his tongue.

“I might ask you something important soon. Not now. But soon.”

She looked at him for a while, unsure and unblinking until his small, boyish, almost shy smile betrayed his meaning to her, and her mouth stretched wide into a bright grin.

“That is, if that’s alright with you, love,” he added, but her arms were wrapped around him even before the words had left his mouth and her smile in the crook of his neck told him all he needed to know. He was hers. All of him was hers.

In the morning, Rumplestiltskin would try to sneak downstairs and come back with her insanely sweet cup of coffee before she could even open her eyes to find him missing. But for now, he gathered his naked, purring lioness to his chest. They would face this sleepless night together. After that, forever.


End file.
